


The grooviest thing, the perfect dream

by Stria (Asia117)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (omg i wanted to use this tag so much), Hybrids, M/M, Magic, Shapeshifting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Witch Curses, and, i can't write conflict, i'm sorry this is basically a fairytale, kind of, smutfree, with literally two lines of conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia117/pseuds/Stria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Harry is a baker, Louis is cursed, and True Love always finds its way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The grooviest thing, the perfect dream

If you were to ask who Harry Styles was, everybody in the neighbourhood would have enthusiastic answers and affectionate praises for the curly-haired boy. Mrs Jones would say he's a good person and he always helps her with her grocery shopping bags. Mr Markson, the fruiterer, would say that every time Harry pops up to greet him, he helps with the fruit boxes. Ms Mary, who has three little kids, would gush over his babysitting abilities. Lou, the florist, would get all nostalgic about the time Harry used to work for her. _Before he got his baker certificate_ , she would say, smiling lightly.

And Harry himself, turned twenty-five years old a couple of months ago, would just smile and wave his hands dismissively, shaking his head. He would say it's nothing, and that he just likes people and wants to be nice to everyone. He would say he likes simple things, like the bakery, where he spends ten hours per day to help Babs, or the beers he has with Liam and Zayn once a month, and he would say for him it's enough. For Harry it's enough.

 

+

 

It's a ten-minute walk from the bakery to Harry's flat, and he loves it in the Spring when he can cut through the park and enjoy all the scents brought by the light afternoon breeze.

Babs practically forced him to take time off from work,  _you're always here Harry dear, ten days will only do you good_ . Harry doesn't really want to leave the bakery, but the new boy, Niall, is nice and capable. Plus he has promised to call him if something happens, so that's a plus.

It's not that he's not grateful for the ten days, it's just that his mum and Robin went on a cruise for their anniversary, and Gemma is currently in Nepal for a field research on the Sino-Tibetan languages.  _Next time you'll come with me, this place is amazing, H_ , she said last time they skyped.

Harry smiles thinking of Gemma, colourful in her traditional Nepalese dress, and kicks a stone, trying to get it forward on the road and ending up sending it in one of the bushes on the side. Liam always teases him saying he has a footballer future in front of him. The only answer Harry has for him if the raised middle finger and a smirk. He loves Liam.

A long and indignant meow raises from the bush, and Harry stops on his track, concerned. He approaches the bush and crouches down, to see if the cat was well. A pair of yellow eyes are watching him with distrust. Harry smiles.

« Kitty, can you come here a moment? I just want to see if you're hurt, come on kitty cat... » He's trying to maintain his tone low and flat, as not to scare further the cat and convince him to come out of the bush. « Come on, kitty kitty... »

Harry sees a twig near his left foot, and tries to make the kitty come out with it. He moves it a bit on the ground, and sees the yellow eyes carefully tracking its movements. After a couple of seconds, a striped little paw comes out of the bush and tries to catch the twig. Harry tries not to coo over how small the paw is, and moves it towards him; a small tabby cat comes out of the bush limping a bit, eyes focused on the twig, but, realising the bush is not where it was supposed to be, levels Harry with a distrusting and slightly condescending look. Harry smiles, trying to make himself smaller, « I'm not going to hurt you, kitty, I just want to see if you're okay, I promise, kitty kitty... »

The cat is still looking at him with distrust, but doesn't flinch when Harry gets his hands close and pets the head a bit. « Are you a little boy or a little girl, kitty cat? How can I call you, kitty? » Harry knows he's saying kitty too much, but the kitty is like a little ball of fluff before him, and he can't resist. « Oooh, so you're a little boy-kitty? A little boo? Hello boo-kitty, I'm Harry. »

he continues to pet the kitty, and he feels him relaxing a bit under his touch, but he doesn't start purring. « Now boo-kitty, let's see if you're hurt? I'm so sorry for the pebble, I didn't want to hurt you... »

There is a light injury on the kitty's back paw, and Harry frown. « Is this my fault? Boo-kitty, I'm so sorry... »

The look he receives is an openly mocking one, and yeah, the pebble was too small to do that kind of damage, but the cat is still wounded and hurting, and Harry grew up in the countryside, he is familiar with hurt animals. If he takes the kitty with him, he can cure him and then if tomorrow he doesn't feel better he can take him to the vet. And meanwhile the kitty can sleep in a warm home at least for a night.

« What do you think about coming home with me? I have milk and treats and we can fix your little paw, isn't it a good idea? » Harry is cooing, and the cat looks at him condescendingly. It's just that he really loves animals and kids, and when he talks with them he goes all mushy and soft.

Paying attention as not to make sudden movements, Harry takes off his sweatshirt, and shivers a little for the chill air. Quickly, he puts it on the kitty and envelops him in the sweatshirt. The kitty meows, indignant, and Harry gets up smiling. « Don't worry boo-kitty, it's for your safety. You're a kitty-burrito but I'm not going to eat you, just going to take you home with me. » He thinks that if the cat could, he would tell him to  _shut up, fucking dork._

 

_+_

 

Harry sighs and closes the door behind him. The cat is watching him with a very... cat-esque expression, condescending and indignant, but he's otherwise calm into Harry's sweatshirt, and Harry is glad about that, since he doesn't know how much he can really tighten the sweatshirt around him. When he's into the bathroom with the door closed, he put the cat down. He can't really risk him running around in his flat, he have to make it kitty-proof. The cat makes a relieved meow and scuttle off the sweatshirt, sitting over it and looking around carefully.

He looks for the first-aid kit, humming to himself. « You're lucky, boo-kitty, I have the disinfectant that doesn't hurt. » He takes it, with two disposable gloves and a bandage. « Now, let's clean that booboo, boo-kitty. »

The cat looks a bit worried. He's looking intently at the disinfectant bottle, and the tip of his tail is moving in fits and starts. Harry tries to make his smile as much as possible comforting and reassuring while he puts on the gloves.

Harry is used to medicate cats and dogs and the occasional fawn stumbling into the backyard of his house in Holmes Chapel. He's never wanted to be a vet, but growing up basically in the countryside has made him capable of dealing with animals. So his approach to the cat is firm and precise, and in less than two minutes the cat looks disgruntled and he's trying to move his paw, now bandaged. Harry smiles, congratulating himself. « Now, boo-kitty, do you want to eat something since you've been so good? »

The cat's tail is still moving jerkily, but he follows Harry without a sound, shaking his back paw every three steps. Harry can't stop laughing.

 

+

 

So, it basically starts with Harry saying that Boo (the cat's official name now) has to heal in the safety of a home, can't go right back on the street with that paw. And then there are bandages to change and things like that, no no sir.

Then there's Harry enjoying Boo's company during his leave. When he wakes up, the cat is always rolled up on his bed, watching him attentively. They have breakfast together (he tried to give Boo treats but he doesn't seem to like them, so right now his diet consist of milk and a rice slop Harry makes with meat and some vegetables. Boo doesn't really like it either, but Harry asked Mrs Dennings, and she has five cats. She would know) and then Boo spends his day purring to Harry's leg every time he can.

Boo is an extremely smart kitty, Harry thinks. He's cuddly and affectionate and seems to understand every word leaving Harry's mouth. He's also a tornado of energy and Harry is so glad he kitty-proofed the flat on the second day. He usually follows Harry in his errands outside, and he looks affronted when he's left outside the deli, under the big NO ANIMALS ALLOWED.

The strange thing about Boo is that when it's dark Harry can't find him in any angle of the house, no matter how hard he looks. The first time it happened he had been scared, but in the morning the cat was on the mattress, watching him, and now it's almost become routine. « You have to do your kitty magic, uh, Boo? » The cat only flicks his tail.

So, well, it doesn't exactly come as a surprise if, after the ten days of leave, Harry decides Boo is going to live with him. He enjoys his presence in the flat, and he doesn't have the heart to send the kitty again on the streets. He tells Boo so, and he head-butts him on his chest and that's it. They're officially family now.

 

+

 

Harry doesn't realise his food is disappearing at first. He just ascribes it to his chronic distraction and the fact that he is now working ten hours per day at the bakery and comes home tired and not really in the mood for paying attention to things (he sees Boo only in the mornings and on Saturday, since Babs insisted for giving him a free day).

And looking back, it's not even big things that disappear. A little bit of rice from the counter, a small portion of the fajita mix he made the other day for Zayn and Liam coming to dinner, one of his fruity snacks he keeps on the lower shelf. So he thinks nothing of it, till he brings home four cupcakes from the bakery, so he can eat them at home for breakfast with his morning coffee, and the morning after there's only two left.

Now, Harry is pretty sure he doesn't sleepwalk, let alone sleepeat.

Also, Harry's pretty sure he would have remembered eating two of his trial special cupcakes (he made them mixing two muffin bases, and he really would have remembered trying something new like that).

He immediately goes to check if he left an open window the night before, but after half an hour of fruitless searching and trying to think of a way to get in his flat without keys he has to declare the cupcakes mysteriously missing.

(The remaining two taste really good, and Harry takes notes about some improvements he can make. Boo, near him, laps at his water and watches him thoughtfully. Harry smiles and scratch the back of his ears, making him dissolve in happy purrs.)

He starts noticing every little thing missing from his fridge and cupboard, he starts counting the cookies and the glasses of juice he has, even the bottles of beer. It couldn't be a mouse, because mice don't really open the fridge or drink beer, and Boo would catch a hypothetical mouse in the twinkling of an eye (with the way he “hunts” the ball of wool Harry got him a while ago); on the other hand, the mysterious entity eating his food doesn't mess anything else. Harry has still all his belongings, and he doesn't even find crumbs on the table or dirty plates.

Still.

It's annoying, it's the thing. Because Harry has never been one not to share his food or his spaces with someone else, and if the ME (calling them “mysterious entity” gets long after a while) would simply ask, he would do that gladly. Maybe they could become friends. Well, unless the ME is a Man City fan, Harry couldn't really stomach it.

 

+

 

Harry is humming to himself while he walks home. Today was the meeting day, but Liam caught a stomach bug and called him and Zayn last minute, so they made it an early evening and decided to meet up another day. It's not even midnight and Harry feels a bit old, and he already knows he will find the house empty and Boo out of sight. Sighing, he thinks his evening will be a sappy movie and some ice cream. Maybe also a beer, Harry could use a beer right now.

It's not that he feels alone. Well, not only that at least, and now with Niall working with him it's difficult to feel alone. It's just that he always looks forward to meeting his best friends, and the idea of seeing _The Notebook_ for the nth time doesn't seem so appealing.

Harry opens the door without making a noise; he's seen Mrs Cavanaugh with Devon in her arms trying to get him to sleep, and he doesn't want to disturb her.

Upon entering his house, he immediately senses something's off. He's sure he left the kitchen light turned off; he's really careful about these things, and he knows it couldn't have been him.

Oh lord, it's a burglar and he's dead. Harry grabs the first blunt object he finds (his lacy white umbrella – shut _up_ , he likes pretty things, okay?), he shuffles out of his shoes and he tiptoes to the kitchen, peering inside and holding the umbrella like a baseball bat.

Harry has never been the adventurous type – he grew up in the countryside, his biggest adventure included a cow and being able of driving a tractor. Nonetheless, he considers himself pretty capable of dealing with strange things.

That's why when he sees the scene in the kitchen, he does the only logical things.

He _squeals._

In the kitchen there is a man. A boy. A manboy. Wearing _his_ trackies and white tee. He's sitting on the counter and eating some of the leftover curry chicken he cooked for his dinner. When he hears Harry's squeal, he stops with his hand in mid-air, still holding a forkful of chicken. His eyes widen impossibly and he looks at Harry warily. Harry swallows and tries to look threatening, but he's interrupted by the stranger's laugh. Upon seeing his blunt object, Harry assumes.

« Sorry mate but – he even has to stop gasping for hair, Harry is really offended now – did you want to hit me with that- with that _thing_? » His voice is high-pitched and slightly raspy, his tone amused and slightly challenging. Harry looks at his umbrella. He's not pouting, _he's not_.

« I'll have you know that this “thing” – he almost does air quotes with his fingers, but he decides it's better not – is really useful during sunny days. Don't insult it. » The stranger snorts and shakes his head. He's cute. He's got pretty eyes and feathery hair pushed out of his forehead. He is still a stranger eating his food. « You're still a stranger eating my food. »

Harry tries to maintain his tone light and slightly playful, to show the stranger he doesn't want to kick him, but he still tenses upon hearing Harry's words. « Yeah, um. About that... » He's eyeing Harry warily again, and he makes himself smaller on the kitchen counter. He puts down the chicken and sighs. « … Sorry? »

Harry shakes his head. « It's not so much sorry as it is, you know, would you mind explaining me who are you and what are you doing here? »

« Oh, right, yeah, um. » He hops off the counter and extend his hand for Harry to shake. « I'm Louis, err, nice to meet you I guess? » Harry lifts an eyebrow, doesn't take the hand. Louis shuffles awkwardly on his feet, put his hand down. « Err, right. I guess you're not really happy to see me here. I just... Can you at least sit down and I'll make tea? The kettler's, err, ready. » Harry lifts the other eyebrow, but goes to sit. Louis is moving in the kitchen like he knows perfectly where everything is, and eyes Harry sheepishly while he put the mugs on the table. « It's just... I'm afraid you wouldn't believe me if I told you. »

Harry sighs, looks down at his tea. Louis knows exactly how he likes it, and he's a bit worried. « Just try me, mate, okay? »

Louis is drumming his fingers on the table, not quite looking at Harry. He sighs and squares his shoulders. « A month ago you rescued a kitten from the park; he had his back paw injured, and you took him home and kept him with you. » Harry nods, not quite understanding what is Louis getting

at. « That I did, mate. I don't really understand what does this have to do with you though. »

Louis keeps his eyes downcast and bites his lips. « I am that cat, mate. »

Harry guffaws. Of all the excuses... « Yeah of course, and I'm the fairy godmother. Try another one. » He expect Louis to change his explanation into something more realistic, but the manboy just huffs and keeps drumming his fingers on the table. Harry gets up. « Come on mate, I don't really fancy keeping you here. You can keep the clothes. »

He's got his back turned to Louis, so he doesn't see him start speaking. « Your name is Harry Styles, you're born on the first of February, 1994. you live alone with m... with a cat called Boo, and work a 10- hour shift at a baker with someone named Niall who makes you laugh a lot. Every morning you get up, drink your tea and then scratch behind my ears before going to work. Also, before going out you said, and I quote, “I'm sorry if I always leave you Boo, we'll make up tomorrow, okay?” to an empty room because I was hiding. Also, you can look at the scar of the injury I had when you rescued me. » Harry turns his head warily, and he sees Louis with his trackies lifted to his knee to show a scar in the exact shape of Boo's one, only bigger. Harry swallows. « I, huh... », and then it's black.

 

+

 

When he opens his eyes again he's on his sofa, with Louis looking at him with a concerned expression. « You kinda, huh. Passed out. I'm sorry about that, maybe I should have been more tactful. » He's clutching his mug of tea and he offers it to Harry. « I know you don't drink it with a lot of sugar, but since you passed out I added it. »

Harry nods weakly, and accepts it. He sips the tea slowly, grimacing at the sweetness. Louis is perched on his coffee table, sat cat like, squatting and with his hands between his feet, and he's looking at him with a concerned expression. He's really cat-like; Harry swallows hard at the thought. Louis is undoubtedly cute, but he's not sure he can really live with the fact that Louis is also Boo. His cat. His cat who listens to him ramble every morning. Harry's head is full of questions and doesn't know where to begin. « So, do you really like playing with wool or it's just to put on an act? »

Louis bursts out laughing, with his head thrown back. He's incapable of forming sentences for ten second or so, and then he sniffles, amused. « I guess there's an instinctual component kicking in when I'm a cat, what can I say. »

Harry is sure he is blushing so hard it's showing down his chest. « Well. Huh. So I guess I will not buy you that plastic mouse I was thinking about. » Another laugh from Louis makes him blush even harder. « It's fine, I swear I don't need it. »

They stay like this for a moment, Harry sipping his tea (which has still a terrible taste) and Louis staring at the ceiling. The silence isn't exactly uncomfortable, but it's not one of those great silences either.

Louis starts fidgeting; his hand is tapping rhythmically on the coffee table, his feet moving left and right, his eyes flicking from the ceiling to Harry and back again. « I... Do you want to ask me something? » He is biting his lips so hard he is almost drawing blood. Harry shrugs, awkwardly.

« I think the first thing would be asking why you're a cat? » It comes out uncertain, and Harry's not sure he wants to hear the answer. Louis smiles, tight-lipped.

« It's better you're seated for this. » Louis' gaze is anxious, his hands balled in tiny fists. Harry, for good measure, puts the mug on the coffee table and hugs the couch pillow. Louis takes a deep breath.

« Okay, so this is going to sound really strange and you might think I'm deranged, but. Yeah, like. Okay. I wasn't born a cat, I was born a hundred percent human and, like, I was a havoc of a boy since I was little. And when you told me not to do something I had to do that just to see what would happen, you know, when I was caught. And like, I never got into serious troubles, you know? A broken arm and a sprained ankle, a few trips to the hospital. I mean, yeah, the E.R. Nurse knew me by first name but. Nothing serious I swear. Till, yeah, until the cat thing. » He pause for a bit, peers over the border of the mug, and gulps the rest of the tea. Harry tries to make himself smaller on the couch and bites his top lip.

« So, the cat thing happened like three months ago I think? I was like, wandering in this old shop owned by this old wrinkly lady at, like, ten in the evening, and I _know_ I did something stupid and I shouldn't have done that, but my friend Stan dared me to do that, and we were a bit drunk and at the time, err, it looked like a fun thing to do. So like, I kinda, huh, tried to steal a book. » Louis is blushing hard all down his neck, his eyes downcast. Harry nods, even though he can't be seen. « It's okay. Well, it's not okay, but. »

Louis chuckles, looks at him, amused. « Well, turns out the old lady was actually a magical old lady, a witch or something, and when she caught me she basically, huh, cursed me? » He pause for a moment, looking at Harry like he could faint any time now, but Harry just blink a couple of times and gulps nothing. When he talks, his voice trembles a bit. « That's, huh. Okay, keep going, please. »

Louis nods, plays with his hands. « Like, apparently that book was her great-great-great-great-grandmother's journal or something like that, so when she caught me she went on and on saying I was a heartless bastard and I should learn the sentimental value of things, and so on and so forth. So, it was all about yo be resolved in a big scolding, you know, but I told you I was drunk... » Louis trails off, embarrassed. He shakes his head and squares his shoulders. « I basically laughed in her face and told her, and I quote drunk-me, that her greatwhatever-grandmother was a stuck-up bitch and she should shut up and leave me alone. So, like, she got angrier and angrier and told me if I was that heartless and didn't understand what love and affection mean, then my life would just be made in a way that it would be impossible for me to love someone. Or something like that. I was drunk. » Harry smiles at that. Louis lifts his lips and closes his eyes.

« So like I left the shop and everything was good, except the following morning I was a cat. And like, I buried myself in the house and went out only at night, and I kinda lost all of my friends and my job because of that, you know. And, well. The night before you found me I tried to go to the old lady but the shop was closed so I tried to go and find a night job because I didn't have money anymore but didn't realise what time was and turned into a cat in the middle of the road and couldn't get back to my house. Good thing I left my keys under the mat, because I lost all my clothes. » The last part is said all in a breath, and Louis peers at Harry under his eyelashes. « And this is basically my story. »

Harry nods. « What about the pa... The injury? »

« I got into a fight with another cat, he was being territorial or some shit like that. » Louis shrugs awkwardly. « Thanks for that, by the way. »

There's a bit of silence, Harry trying to wrap his mind around the evening, and Louis watching him anxiously. It's him who interrupts the silence, almost in a whisper, like he's afraid of what he's saying. « Are you throwing me out now? »

Harry turns his head so fast he almost gives himself a whiplash, and stares at Louis for a couple of seconds. Then he shrugs and sneers. « Can't risk having you coming back here with a broken paw, can we? »

That's it then.

 

+

 

If Harry liked living with Boo, he likes it even more knowing that Boo is actually Louis. He can talk to him knowing Louis will understand and he can come back home to Louis trying to cook and giving life to the flat.

After the first awkward nights they talk a lot, and learn a lot about each others. Louis is three years older than him (« _Two, Harold._ » « _You will be twenty-EIGHT this year, Lewis._ » « _December doesn't count._ »), that he makes a mean tea and graduated in drama. He learn he has six younger siblings and he's from the Yorkshire ( _« Not that it wasn't obvious with the accent you have... » « Posh Spice, just shut up. »_ ) he loves junk food ( _« You and your healthy meals are making me sad, Harold. » « But I bring you sweets from the bakery? » « Shush, a man needs mayo to survive! »_ ) and he hates being called Boo ( _« But it's cute! » « It's a stupid name, shut up. » « Okay, Boo. » « Harold. »_ ).

They don't go out so much together. They went once to Louis' flat (a nice one-bedroom with a balcony twenty minutes by car from where Harry lives) to take some clothes and things like that, but Louis refuses to go out with Liam and Zayn because _it would be too hard to explain, H,_ and Harry respects his decision. For now at least, but he knows he will succeed.

 

+

 

The official plan is, of course, discover what does it take to break the curse. It doesn't help that Louis doesn't really remember a lot because of his drunkenness, but Harry swears he tries, so Louis can go back to his life.

So, in his free day of the first week he goes to the place where Louis was cursed. He finds the shop closed, but at least he tells himself he's found the place and he will go back another time, when the shop will be open.

Only, the week after he _must absolutely_ go grocery shopping, because shopping for two is different than shopping for one, and of course he can't go to the supermarket, he buys local, what do you think?

And the week after that he decides that trying to go into a library looking for informations must be better. After all libraries are the places of knowledge, or something like that. And if in the library he doesn't find anything it can't be his fault, can it?

But he's _trying_ , he swears. He's trying to do something because Louis is becoming his friend and he wants him to live a great life and not to turn into an adorable ball of fur every morning.

But he's trying.

Even if Louis-cat is adorable.

He's really trying.

 

+

 

« Honeyyyy, you're home! » Louis' voice is sickeningly sweet and Harry can't help himself and bursts out laughing. « You just want me for my food Lewis. »

He promised a pizza on his way out this morning; Louis has already set up the table and is waiting for him in a big sweater of his. Harry likes Louis in his sweaters, they make him look small, soft and cuddly.

« You know a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, young Harold. » Louis is following him and Harry's pretty sure he would be wagging his tail if it was morning. He puts the pizza boxes on the table and smiles. « Stop with those bullshit and sit down. I bought the mushroom one for you. »  
Louis does a little skip and goes to sit down, smiling excitedly. « You know me so well, Harry styles. »

Harry shrugs and smiles. « I'm getting to your heart through your stomach, innit? » At that, Louis burst out laughing and steals an olive from Harry's pizza.

« Well, lovely Hazza, I can't say you aren't succeeding. » He winks, making Harry smirk. They've settled on this behaviour of flirting-but-not-really and he's so fine right now. He wishes everything could stay like this forever.

Except for the cat part. Even if he misses Dusty. The cat part would be awkward to explain.

« You know, I went to the park this evening. Walked a bit, smoked a fag, talked with a dog, things like this. » When Louis told harry he was more of a dog person, he couldn't believe the irony of the situation.

« That's great Lou! Being cooped up in here isn't good for you, and you know that. » Louis nods sheepishly. « I know, it's just that... how would you explain this to people? Hello, here's my friend, but he can't come with us during the day? H, I lost my friends for this kind of shit. »

« Why didn't you just tell one of them? I mean, not to pry, but if I accepted it why couldn't they? » Harry locks his eyes with Louis' baby blue ones and smiles a little, reassuringly. « I'm not judging you, just trying to understand. »

Louis bites his lip and readjust his fringe cautiously. « It's just... Well, I'm a bit proud, I don't like asking for help. »

« Yes but look where this lead you to- » Harry is really meaning to continue, but Louis interrupts him with a smirk. « In a beautiful flat with a beautiful person, thank you so much for that. And stop it with the frog face, you loon. »

 

 

It's only later, when they're both cocooned in the duvet on the couch, watching reruns of _Life on Mars,_ that Louis asks the question.

« H, » he mumbles sleepily, his eyes fixated on the screen.

« Lou, » Harry answers with the same tone, head on Louis' shoulder.

« I was just wondering about the book shop. » Harry swallows and he's not so drowsy anymore all of a sudden. « I... huh. I'm working on it. » He can hear Louis' shoulder lift with his sigh.

« Harry, love, you know I'm not a moron, innit? » Harry really much doesn't want to have this conversation right now. He shakes his head lightly, biting his lips, but Louis isn't having it. He mutes the show and looks at Harry pointedly. It's Harry's turn to sigh and sit better on the couch to face Louis. « I know you're not a moron, » he mumbles, without watching him.

« So why you told me you're “working on it” while you're not really doing anything? » Louis is serious, air quotes and all that. Harry swallows around nothing and shrugs, picking at the duvet, shrugs without knowing what to say. He hears Louis sigh. « Love, I'm not angry, I just want to understand. »

« I just, huh. I just want to. Keep seeing you and. Like. When you're not a cat anymore it will not happen probably? » He said the words in a rushed whisper, and he's not even sure Louis heard them, but the moment after he gets a lapful of laughing boy and he doesn't really know what to do, so he ends patting his shoulder awkwardly.

« Harry, are you thick? Oh love, I swear I am your friend and we will meet up every free day you have and I will visit you at the bakery and stay there to get my shit done while you're working and you will never ever get rid of me babe, okay? » Harry is smiling so big his cheeks hurts; he puts his hands around Louis' waist and his head on the shoulder. « I just get worried, sunshine. »

Louis is watching him fondly and shakes his head. « You big goofball, I would never. Not after what you're doing to me, but even if I met you at a bar or at the bakery H, you're just so lovely, and it's nice to have you around. Can I keep you? »

« Promise. »

 

+

 

The shop looks dark and threatening. Objectively, harry knows it's just an old place with a lot of clutter, but the possibility of what's inside is making him a bit scared. He takes a deep breath and he puts his hand on the door handle, but before he can actually make something the door opens and a wrinkly old lady looks at him sternly. « Well, lad? I don't have all the time in the world. Either you get in or you don't. But you don't stand on the threshold. »

Harry swallows and follow her inside of the shop and stops in front of the desk, shuffling his feet nervously. The lady is perched up on a stool, levelling him. « So, why don't you tell me why you're here, young lad? »

Harry nods, swallowing down the need to say _yes, madame_. « It's just... I... huh. I believe you know my friend? Louis? » He wants to punch himself in the face right after uttering the words. He's usually more articulate than this.

The lady just lifts an eyebrow. « Do I, young lad? »

The fact about talking of things standing outside the common spectrum of _what it's considered normal under the laws of physics_ is that there's no right way to say them. So Harry just has a go with it, hoping she won't call the police. « Louis, the one you. Huh. The one you turned into a cat during the days? Four months ago, give or take. » His voice wavers a bit, but he doesn't blink and doesn't fidget, so that's good.

Luckily, she doesn't call the police. « That discourteous young man? Yes, I do remember him, what about him? Has he learned his lesson? »

Well, _discourteous_ is quite different from _heartless bastard_ , now that Harry thinks about it. « Err, no. I was actually wondering what's the way to break the... curse. »

« I told him when he was there, did he forgot? » Harry doesn't know if he's embarrassed for Louis or for himself, having this conversation. « He was... huh, he was kinda intoxicated, madame. »

She shakes her head disapprovingly. « So that's the reason why he did what he did then, huh? »

« Err, » Harry makes a vague gestures with his hands. « I can tell you he's actually a really nice lad, he helps me around the home and he's great to have around. And he's, huh, sincerely regretful of what he did then. » And he's easy on the eyes and cuddly and watches sappy movies with him, and indulges him in his morning yoga and walks to the park and his eyes are baby blue and his hair feathery soft and he's so nice. But Harry doesn't say that.

The lady smirks, as she could read his mind. Which is not impossible, thinking about it. Harry blushes hard and hopes it's not the case. « I see, young lad. » She is silent for a bit, and Harry is afraid to prompt her, so he waits and looks around.

The shop is a clutter of books, candles, crystals, colourful stones and little fabric bags Harry supposes contain herbs and seeds. He's never seen anything more stereotypically witchy in his life. The lady's voice brings him back to reality when he's trying to read a big book title. It's something with “Love potions” but he's not sure.

« I just told him that the curse would be broken had him learn to love and to be loved in return. Nothing less, nothing more. » Harry blinks and looks at her, slightly disappointed. She chuckles a bit and shakes her head. « Never read a fairy tale, young lad? »

After that, she takes a pen and start writing with an air of finality, and Harry can't do much besides thanking, greeting and getting out, wondering if the visit paid at all.

 

+

 

When he tells what happened to Louis, he's expecting to hear complaints and curse words, but Louis just stares at him for twenty seconds without moving, blushing a bit, only to scurry away when Harry tries to ask him what does he have. The only thing he says, two hours later, when harry is almost asleep with his head on his lap, is that he is thinking about the solution. Harry leaves it at that, knowing better than to insist.

After that, Louis is extra gentle with him, Harry suspects because he did do his researches and now they're a step closer to the resolution. ( _« Not because I don't want to keep seeing you, goofball, but I miss my independence, you know? »_ ) He is always in the mood for cuddles and tries his best to cook for him when he comes home from the bakery. He almost burned down the kitchen twice, but Harry doesn't really mind as long as everything was safe. They ordered kebab that evening and everything was fine. Increasingly often, Harry discovers himself thinking about how his life with Louis would be. The first few times, he would just dismiss the thing as an intrusive thought and move on, but now it happens every time Louis does something cute, and Louis does something cute at least three times per day.

And also there are the fireworks in his stomach exploding every time Louis so much as touches him. After that first awkward hug, they are really affectionate with each others, and sometimes Louis kisses him on his cheek and Harry _knows_ it doesn't mean anything, it's just a loud smack and nothing else, but he still gets butterflies and blushes a lot more.

Of course, this doesn't mean he stops flirting or noting how Louis seems affected and blushy too. Sometimes he dares himself to hope about a hypothetical future life, then he blinks and it's gone, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste.

 

+

 

Harry's not sure he wants to tell Louis his feelings have changed. He prefers to leave them in a corner of his brain, tucked near his mother and Gemma's place. Near the _family_.

(They were watching Lilo and Stitch the other day, because Louis is a big baby. Harry couldn't stop thinking about _ohana_.)

His world tilts on its axis one evening, coming back from the pub where he went with Liam and Zayn. Louis asked him to come home a bit early and he finds him with his shoes at his feet, ready to go out. He's ushered out of the door and taken on the roof where, with great stupor, he sees a blanket with a picnic basket on, and various candles (he recognises his scented bathroom ones). Louis, on his side, is blushing a bit. « I just wanted, huh. It's three months I'm staying with you and I just wanted to thank you properly. »

Harry's smile is so big he can't talk for a bit. « Lou, you know it's not- » « Not necessary, I know. I wanted to do that H, okay? »

Harry smiles and nods, sitting down and opening the basket. There are two plates in it, and Louis takes them before Harry can do it. « It's really nothing, I swear. It's huh. Chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham. With a side of home-made mash. And I swear it's not poisonous. » He chuckled a bit, embarrassed, and passes the plate to Harry.

« It's really good Lou, I swear, it's great. » Louis blushes and ducks his head, trying to hide his smile. « Just eat, goofball. »

They settle in a comfortable silence after that, Harry trying to find the stars in the London sky. Trying not to get overwhelmed by the atmosphere and the flickering light of the candles. Louis does the honours, taking the plates when they finish and putting them back into the basket, they lie down for a bit, happy and sated, and Harry could almost fall asleep like this, with Louis' comforting presence at his side.

« I'm really grateful for all you've done for me H, you know that. » Louis' voice is wavering a bit, but he takes a deep breath and keeps talking, like he has to get everything out of his system. « I think... I think I have the solution for the curse, also. »

Harry doesn't feel his heart fall, he _doesn't_. « That's... that's great Lou, what is it? »

Louis sits up and motions at Harry to do the same. He's serious, probably the most serious Harry has ever seen him after the time he discovered him with his clothes in his kitchen. He wants to chuckle at the memory, but doesn't think it's the right moment.

« It's _you_ , H. The solution is you. » Louis is stiff in front of him, and he never looked more serious. Before Harry can say anything he keeps going, voice firm. « You brought me with you, and you let me stay in your house free of charge and you, you- » He huffs, frustrated. « You made me fall in love with you with your constant presences and long hair and niceness and good cooking and you know I'm not the best with words, but what I'm tried to say is I'd really like to kiss you, if that's okay. »

Harry nods, not trusting his voice not to cracks, overwhelmed by affection, and then Louis is leaning forward and Louis' lips are on his and everything is perfect and there's an explosion of fireworks in his stomach and Harry has to stop himself or he would squeal and that's not nice when you're kissing someone.

The kiss is chaste, sweet and slow, and when Louis leans back Harry swears he is seeing the starry sky in his eyes.

 

+

 

The next morning, Louis wakes him up with a smack on his lips and a mug of tea, and Harry couldn't be happier.

 

_**Fin.** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, this was my first try at English. A short(ish) fairy-tale like story and I hope you liked it! The title is taken from the Cure's song, _The Lovecats_. Feel free to correct any error you might find :)
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://cosenoditea.tumblr.com), and/or reblog [here](http://cosenoditea.tumblr.com/post/109525482941/the-grooviest-thing-the-perfect-dream-by-stria-on) the post for this fic !
> 
> (Only if you want though, of course)


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